


Play Date.

by Meowzalot



Series: Play Date [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, I suck at tags, John as a kid, M/M, Protective Mycroft, Teacher Lestrade, mystrade, sherlock as a kid, will add tags as they happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowzalot/pseuds/Meowzalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade is a teacher. Mycroft Holmes is the guardian to his little brother Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Speechless.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I know the ages are all 'woah'. Please forgive me for that but I'm sure you'll love it.
> 
> Not betaed/brit-picked. This was mainly just kinda typed up after talking to my usual beta on a little idea she gave me. Sooo. . this is for you, audreyneedsacase.
> 
> It will go to an 'E' rating at some point. Just warning in advance. I just feel bad tagging it as such before it happens, know what I mean?

Today had started off so damn promising. The coffee wasn’t burnt, his favorite shirt was actually clean, and he’d just woke up feeling good after months of getting used to a new flat. So, yes, today had started off with so much promise.

At the first sounds of a scuffle from outside Greg Lestrade looked up from the test papers, red pen pausing as he strained to hear the teacher who was supposed to be out there break it up. Cursing softly he was up and outside in a matter of moments, shoulders braced and expression firm.

“Oi! Watson! Moran!” His voice boomed over the high pitched chorus of ten-year olds cheering on the fight. The children parted like the red sea, some even running off to hide from their teacher, most just hung around to see what would happen to their classmates.

Reaching down to grab both boys by the back of their shirts he pulled them apart, sighing softly. “Watson?”

The boy was small for his age but never let it hold him back from keeping up with bigger kids. His gray eyes looked water with unshed tears but his glare suggested it wasn’t from the pain of his bloody nose. “Moran ain’t nothing but a bully!”

“Moran?”

Shaking his head Sebastian returned the glare to John.

“Right then. Where the he-Where is Mr. Anderson?”

“Anderson took Irene to the nurse. Most likely got distracted talking to Donovan.”

“Sherlock,” He glanced over his shoulder at the boy who was holding a torn sleeve up to his nose. “It’s Mr. Anderson and Ms. Donovan, okay?”

Crossing his arms the child looked both older and even more childish as he pouted. The dried track of tears were either forgotten or ignored as the boy tilted his head up. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” He said, refusing to crack a smile. He could not indulge such childish behavior.

Keeping a firm but careful grip on Watson and Moran he waited until Anderson came running out, cheeks flushed. The color deepened when he saw Lestrade standing there holding two boys that obviously had been fighting and a rather beat up looking Sherlock who stood there glaring at him.

“Greg, I’m sorry. Irene Adler tripped and hurt her knee.” He explained. “What happened?”

“I’m about to find out. Please stay out here or call for Mrs. Hudson on the walkie-talkie at least.” Greg sighed, looking down at the boys. “Now, you three are coming with me to the office.”

“Oi!” John said, wincing when Greg gave him a warning look. “What about Jim, Mr. Lestrade? He started this by telling Moran to pick on Sherlock!”

“That’s a lie! Jim isn’t even out here!” Moran, Sebastian really but the boy rarely went by that name.

Without another word he took the three boys to the office, making sure they were all seated in front of Ms. Donovans desk before explaining what he knew so far. At the end of it the bell gave a warning noise for kids to head back to class since recess was over.

“I got it from here, Mr. Lestrade. Thank you.” Sally said with a dismissive nod.

 

With a free period that afternoon Greg hoped he would finally get those damn test papers done. He was just sitting down, glasses in hand when there was a sharp knock at the door right before Sally barged in looking harassed.

Running fingers through his silver locks he chuckled, leaning back in his hair. “Everything okay, Sally?”

“Sherlocks guardian wants to speak with you. I already spoke to Mrs. Watson and Mr. Moran but Mr. Holmes insists on speaking to you.”

Frowning a bit he stood, a little confused. “That’s fine. I’ll give him a call right now.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Lestrade. I took the liberty of coming down here myself. This is the fourth call in a week about Sherlocks behavior.”

Greg actually felt himself go speechless for a moment as Sally introduced Mycroft Holmes. He didn’t even look thirty!

Feeling suddenly self-cautious of his completely silver hair at thirty Greg held his hand out, smiling wide. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes. Sherlock talks about you all the time.”

The ginger haired man sniffed, lips curling up on one side in some form of a smile. “Please, Mr. Lestrade, there is no need to lie to me. If we could sit and talk.” When it was clear there would be no hand shake Greg cleared his throat, hand falling limply back to his side.

“Of course, Mr. Holmes.”

The walkie-talkie at Sallys side buzzed to life, Andersons voice begging for help in the art room above the squeals of excited children. “You go on, Sally. I’ll take care of this.” Greg chuckled in sympathy.

Mycroft looked a tad silly sitting in one of the small chairs meant for children. What with his three piece suit and matching umbrella across his lap. Still a handsome man.

“Sorry about the chair. One of my students used the other one for an. . experiment.”

Gray eyes closed for a second, chest heaving in a silent sigh. “What was my brother trying to prove?”

“Playing pirates actually. Sherlock is a pretty hard headed kid.” Greg chuckled fondly. It was true. But Holmes was also one of his favorite students. “Sherlock shows a lot of promise, Mr. Holmes.”

“Mycroft, please.”

Smiling a bit Greg cleared his throat to continue. “Then, please, call me Greg. As I was saying, Sherlock shows a lot of promise. There have been a few issues with the other children. Mainly between him and a boy named James. I sent a note home last week.”

“I was out of town last week. How long have these problems been occurring?” Mycroft looked suddenly weary, adding a few years to his face.

“Most of the year, Mr. . Mycroft. It’s completely normal for children to hide bully issues.” He tried to reassure the man. “It can be that they’re too scared of the bullies or they’re embarrassed. I’ve seen it happen loads of times.”

Mycroft watched him carefully, like one would something under a microscope.

“Sherlock has made a friend. A boy named John Watson. Maybe it would help if you had a play date for the boys.”

“Gregory, if you’ll forgive me, you aren’t exactly like the other teachers Sherlock has had before.” Mycroft murmured. “Please, don’t take it offensively. Which, judging by the flare of your nostrils you have.”

Greg flushed at the use of his ‘real’ name, as well as at the teacher comment. “I guess that trick Sherlock does runs in the family.” He murmured.  
“Hardly a trick, Gregory. It’s all about observation. Something most people seem to lack the talent for.” Mycroft chuckled, dusting an imaginary fleck of dust from the front of his suit jacket.

Pulling his glasses off to rub at the bridge of his nose Greg sighed, remembering a quote almost word for word Sherlock had said about that same subject. “Mr. Holmes, if you want Sherlock to open up to you try having a play date with him and his little mate. You can get to know the Watsons better, and maybe John will tell them something they can pass onto you.”

“It is something I shall consider. I’m a terribly busy man but I do care for my brother, despite what Sherlock might think.”  
“What makes you say that? I’m sure he knows you care. Sherlock isn’t a stupid kid, as we both know.”

Mycroft gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “As you’ve noticed there’s a significant age difference between Sherlock and myself. I have always traveled for school, and now work. After our parents passing it was brought to my attention just how little I know my brother.”

Greg remembered the accident. Sherlock hadn’t come to school for a week, and every day John would gather up the make-up work for Sherlock and leave. It was always brought back completed, sometimes torn up as if crumpled into a ball but done none the less.

“I can’t say I understand what you’re going through, Mycroft, but I know you care.”

That earned a somewhat amused look, one perfectly shaped brow arching in question. “Is that so, Gregory?”

“The fact is I’ve heard your phone buzz at least ten times since you’ve been in this room. You know it because why wouldn’t you know? Yet you haven’t excused yourself to check the phone once.”

Mycroft tilted his head, smirking at him but it was different than before. His gaze seemed more focused, pupils dilating somewhat. Just noticing that had Greg clearing his throat softly, heart giving a jolt in his chest.

“Would you care to join me, Gregory?”

“W-what? Sorry, Mr. Holmes. Could you please repeat that?” He stammered, blushing darkly as Mycroft chuckled low.

“I merely requested your presence at this ‘play date’ you insist on. I’m sure it would be welcome to Sherlock, as well as John.”

It should have sounded like a completely harmless offer. If it weren’t for that velvety tone of voice Greg could have brushed it off as just an innocent offer. Wishing for a pint the size of his bloody head Greg forced a smile. This was for a student.

“Great. Perfect.”

“Excellent. I’ll be in touch.” Mycroft looked pleased as the cat that ate the canary as they both stood; now holding his hand out to Greg. Out of habit he reached out, grasping the hand firmly and wishing he could ignore the warmth spreading through his entire body.

The contact didn’t last longer than socially accepted but Greg felt like his hand was burning even after Mycroft was gone.


	2. Pirates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before. No beta for this one. :3 Hope you enjoy.

When Mycroft said he would be in touch Greg kind of expected more than a text message containing a date and time. When had Mycroft even gotten his number?

**Address? Also, how did you get my number? – Lestrade**

The day finally rolled around with no response from who he assumed to be Mycroft. Maybe the older Holmes had changed his mind about wanting a teacher there? Just in case he hadn’t Greg dressed in more casual clothes that he didn’t mind getting ruined if play time got messy.

For a moment he thought about the brand new jumper he’d worn to school one day. As he’d learned, glitter didn’t go with everything and it never really went away.

Greg was sipping at his tea when a sharp knock at the door startled him into nearly spilling some of the hot liquid over his hand. Who the bloody hell could this be? Opening the door he frowned at the black car just waiting there. Hadn’t someone just knocked?

The phone in his pocket buzzed notifying him of an incoming call. Keeping his eyes glued to the black car Greg pulled the phone out.

“Mr. Holmes doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” The voice was feminine and brisk before ending the call.

Grabbing his coat Greg locked the door and walked slowly to the car, a little paranoid until he was inside. The woman sitting across from him had a blackberry in hand texting away, paying little attention to him as the car started moving.

Okay. So he was either being taken to a play date or about to be murdered. Decent odds, right? Relaxing back in the seat he gave a lopsided grin to the woman.

“Greg Lestrade. Pleased to meet you.”

The silence was a little uncomfortable.

“You work for Mr. Holmes?”

“Yep.”

Feeling a little self-conscious Greg pulled out his own phone, debating about texting Molly and asking how her date went the other night. No. Molly was great to talk to but when she got excited she tended to ramble. Couldn’t start a conversation right before having to cut it off.

So, he sat there the entire ride pretending to text. The woman across from him gave an amused smirk once in a while, making him wonder if she knew he was just faking.

In the silence Greg stared at his phone screen, thinking. The boys would keep themselves amused, and he could watch them while Mycroft talked to Johns parents. Maybe that’s why Mycroft wanted him to come along. Be some sort of baby sitter. Well, so long as it helped Sherlock in the long run.

Feeling more confident by the time they pulled up to the house he was able to pretend the sheer size of the home didn’t shock him. Not a castle but bigger than anything he could ever hope to afford. Most likely needed a perfect finance record to get in the bloody neighborhood.

The woman got out with him, keeping a few paces ahead as they entered.

“Mr. Lestrade?” Sherlocks curly head peeked around a corner, watching the door carefully after taking sight of his teacher. “Is. . John with you?” He asked voice barely above a whisper.

Greg laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, Sherlock. He’ll be here soon. I’m early.”

Sherlock looked up at him again, big eyes narrowing. “Mycroft is gross.”

Ignoring the sighing woman in front of him he walked over to kneel in front of Sherlock, head tilted in question. “That’s not a very nice thing to say, Sherlock. Why did you say that?”

“Because-“

“Sherlock!” Mycroft appeared at the top of the grand staircase, sounding more like an annoyed older sibling than the perfectly groomed adult that stood there.

In a flash the little boy darted behind Greg, peeking over his shoulder with a smirk at his older brother who was trying to hurry down the stairs without actually running.

“Thank you, Athena. I won’t be requiring your assistance the rest of the day.” Mycroft dismissed her when he reached the floor. “Sherlock, cook made you a snack before John arrives. Go.”

The boy shook his head, making Lestrade chuckle softly. “Why don’t you go play with Redbeard while I talk with your brother? I’ll be sure to get you when John gets here.”

“Can’t play pirates without a first mate. John is the first mate.” Sherlock grumbled, going to sit by the long windows by the front door.

Standing straight Greg shrugged. “He’ll be here soon.”

“Tea, Gregory?”

Greg looked back at Mycroft, feeling that strange loss of speech before he was able to clear his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Holmes.”

“Mycroft, please. Right this way.”

The sitting room was right off the entrance, so both were able to keep ears on Sherlock huffing and grumbling about having to wait and how bored he was getting.

Mycroft handed over a cup of tea before taking his own seat. “I gave most of the staff the afternoon off. Otherwise I’m sure most would consider quitting after Sherlock and his little friend run around the house for a few hours.”

“He seems excited though. That’s the important thing, right?” Greg asked.

“You do appear to have an acute understanding of children. Sherlock, to my knowledge, has never taken a liking to any of his teachers like he has you. Of course, I don’t believe any of his teachers have taken a liking to him.” Mycroft appeared to frown at the last part but the expression was gone before Greg could have a chance to find out if he’d just pictured it. “While I know teaching wasn’t your first choice for a career I must admit I am glad you stuck with it.”

“Thanks. I do love teac-how exactly do you know that?” Greg asked, frowning. “And how did you get my number?”

“It truly isn’t that difficult to find what one needs when knowing where to look.”

“I feel like I’m being bloody interrogated.”

“Oh no, Gregory, far from it. If it bothers you I will refrain from keeping up communication unless it is about Sherlock.”

“I didn’t say that! And what communication? I sent you a text almost two days ago and you never said anything back.”

“Work.” He said simply, sipping at the tea calmly. “I feel I must add that Mr. and Mrs. Watson will not be joining us today. There was a family emergency. At least I believe that’s what Mr. Watson said, the slurring was a tad bit atrocious.” 

Greg didn’t bother saying anything, just nodding slightly as Mycroft continued.

“I sent a car to pick the boy up since his mother insisted it would be alright.”

The sound of the front door cracking open had both adults reacting but Greg was out of the room first, used to reacting at the first sound of children getting into something they shouldn’t. Not fast enough this time it appeared. Both boys were rushing past him, Sherlock tugging John along like they were escaping a crime scene.

“Oi! No running!” Greg yelled out of habit, smirking when John looked wide eyed over his shoulder.

“Is that Mr. Lestrade?”

“Yes. Mycroft wanted to invite his boyfriend over!” That was followed by giggling as the boys ran out of sight.

For a moment Greg stood there slack jawed, cheeks flaring. Really? That hadn’t been the worst thing a student had ever said. For weeks students had flocked to say Mr. Lestrade was holding hands with Miss. Hooper, a crime punishable by cooties. Those teasing giggles had done nothing but amuse him but what Sherlock had said left him. . confused in all honesty.

The soft ‘click’ of loafers drew his attention to the man by his side. “Shall we, Gregory? The weather is rather nice today.” Mycroft promised. Hadn’t he heard that? Why did it matter? It wasn’t true. Didn’t mean anything.

Following Mycroft to a sun room bigger than his bedroom Greg let his mind drift as he watched Sherlock and John run around outside.

God, he really needed to try getting a date. Actually just good sex. The idea of wasting his time in another relationship didn’t exactly hold appeal after the divorce.  
“Think I might get out there with’em. Coming?” Greg asked suddenly, rolling his sleeves up as he went for the door.

Mycroft flushed, shaking his head.

“Suit yourself.” He chuckled.

 

An hour or so later Greg was very glad for his choice in clothes that day. Grass stained, dirt stained, and even a few dog prints from crew mate Redbeard. By the end of it he was tired, dirty, and he felt great. Sitting back on the grass to catch his breath Greg watched the boys run around, swinging play swords as Redbeard barked.

Glancing up he smiled and waved to Mycroft who was still sitting in the sunroom watching. There was a moment’s hesitation before Mycroft waved back. Getting up he went back to join the older Holmes, sitting less than gracefully into one of the chairs.

“Should probably bring them in for a snack and something to drink.” Greg sighed, wishing for a drink himself. 

“Cook should have made something for the boys. If you would so kindly usher them inside. I have to make an important phone call, do forgive me.” Mycroft said before leaving in a rush, phone already to his ear.

At least this was something he could do. “Sherlock! John! Come on inside for a little while! There are snacks!” He called, pushing the door open.

“Not hungry!” Sherlock yelled back but John had taken a few steps towards the teacher before stopping, looking between his friend and the promise of something to eat. Greg watched the boys talk for a few moments, grinning when their toys were discarded and they were inside with Redbead rushing to the kitchen.

Out of habit of needing to keep an eye on the kids he followed, leaning on the doorframe as the cook started putting food in front of them. “You two think you will be alright if I leave to find Mycroft?”

“He’s in the study. He’s always in the study. No one’s allowed in there.” Sherlock replied, eyes narrowing on an apple slice on his plate.

“Study is right ‘round the corner, sir. I’ll keep an eye on the little ones.” Cook said.

“Only be a moment.” Greg promised before heading off.

He found Mycroft in the study but instead of being on the phone he was sitting behind a dark cherry wood desk, dozing in the leather office chair. Maybe watching the kids had tired the poor man out? Chuckling softly Greg shut the door quietly, tip-toeing to behind the desk and just taking a moment to admire Mycroft when he didn’t look so serious.

God, he looked so bloody young sleeping. It felt almost perverted to be attracted to him. Maybe it would be better to just let him sleep. Greg didn’t notice the hand reaching out until it grabbed his, nearly making the teacher jump out of his skin until he saw the playful gray eyes open and focused on him.

“It’s rude to scare people, Mycroft.” Greg said with a smirk.

“It’s hardly my fault if you weren’t paying attention, Gregory.”

Leaning down to place both hands on the arm rests he moved into Mycrofts personal space, ‘tsking’ softly. “Such a mouth on you.” He chuckled, watching the eyes widen and lips part in a surprised ‘o’. How much self-control was he supposed to have?

The lips were soft. That was the first thing to cross his mind. Second thing Greg noticed right away were the hands now grasping the front of his stained shirt as Mycroft moaned into the kiss.

Again, how much self-control was he supposed to have?


	3. Nap Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, not betaed/Brit-picked/etc. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, I think I could wrap this up in the next chapter(And maybe an epilogue). Keeping this short and sweet, or. . I could make it longer/more in depth.
> 
> That's completely up to if there's even enough interest for that.
> 
> Short and sweet or longer/more in depth?
> 
> Either way I just hope ya'll enjoy this fic. :3 Of course.

It had been months since Greg had felt this blood boiling lust that threatened to turn him into a brainless thing. At the moment all he could think of was pushing Mycroft onto the desk and rutting against him until they were both on the brink of losing it.

Loud barks mixed with giggles of children pierced the lust driven fog around his brain quickly, making him pull away as Mycroft sat there visibly trying to compose himself. “I do hope you won’t take offensive if I mention you smell like dog.” Mycroft commented, fixing his tie that had somehow become somewhat a skew.

“Most likely smell like dirt as well. Better than going home smelling like glue because a student thought you’d be happier with glitter.”

Greg moved to sit on the other side of the table, glad at the decision when Sherlock barged in with John right behind him.

“Sherlock, I do not want Redbeard in the house! He’s filthy!” Mycroft scolded when the dog ran into the room. The animal only seemed to understand its name and ran over to Mycroft, tail wagging and chin resting on the humans knee. “Yes, good boy.” He sighed, patting the ears awkwardly while watching dirty paws to make sure Redbeard didn’t jump up on him.

“I want to show John my new science kit. And Redbeard stays inside! I cleaned off his paws like you said I had to if he comes inside.” Sherlock said with a pout, arms crossing.

“Fine, Sherlock. Remember the agreement, do not ignite anything, do not take apart anything without permission, and do not climb on the roof again for a repeat of last time.” Mycroft said firmly, patting Redbeard on the head one more time before the dog went back to Sherlock.

Sherlock had a look like he might disagree so Greg quickly stepped in. “Remember, this is Johns first time here and if he gets hurt his parents might not let him come back over here.” He suggested. That seemed to do the trick. “So, is that understood, Sherlock? John?”

“Yes, Mr. Lestrade.” John said before his hand was grabbed and he was pulled from the room.

“Sherlock is rather fond of John, isn’t he?” Mycroft murmured, staring at the closed doors the boys had gone through.

“John is a good kid. Sherlock is as well but I think him and John help each other out.” Greg said fondly. 

They sat in comfortable silence as Greg mentally debated if it was time for him to go. John would be heading home in the next hour or so but it didn’t appear like he was needed for anything now. The kids were well enough on their own. Looking at Mycroft he flushed when their eyes met, suggesting Mycroft had been watching him for some time.

“I think it’s time I said my goodbyes.” He suggested, standing quickly before losing the nerve.

Mycroft stood as well, coming around the desk to join him. “Of course. Let me walk you out. I would hate to appear rude again.” He chuckled.

“Bloody tease.” Greg said with a grin, following Mycroft first to Sherlocks room where they found the boys dozing, propped up against the foot of the bed with a book resting between them. Johns head was resting on the taller boys shoulder, and likewise Sherlocks cheek was pressed against Johns head.

Shaking his head Greg grabbed a blanket from the floor, draping it over the tiny figures. It was just natural for him to take care of people. His ex-wife had used to joke it was cute how he wanted to protect and nurture everybody but that was before she decided kids weren’t for her. Which had been fine. It was the cheating that really got him pissed off.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to move them to the bed, Gregory?” Mycroft asked as he was ushered from the room, sparing one more glance at the sleeping boys.

“They’re fine, Mycroft. Kids can pretty much sleep anywhere.” Greg said, resting his hand on the others shoulder. “It would be an awful shame to leave before I had a chance to say bye.”

“One could even go so far as to call it ‘rude’. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Pushing Mycroft against the wall Greg smirked at the man, enjoying the barely noticeable height difference between them. Only possible to notice when their bodies were pressed so close together he could feel the others heart beat against his chest.

Their second kiss was more frantic, both wondering about the odds of two little boys waking up and deciding then would be a good time to come find them. It was the only thing that kept Greg from falling to his knees right then and there. Instead he had to settle with grinding his erection against Mycrofts, using the kiss to muffle both of their moans.

“Room, My?” Greg moaned into his ear, biting at the soft lobe and tugging. Mycroft trembled, hips pressing harder against him before he cleared his throat.

“Yes. Down the hall on the left. Just be quiet.” He murmured in a hushed tone.

 

Greg opted to lock the door, safely assuming neither of them wanted to risk one of the boys walking in on them. With that done he yanked the stained shirt off, tossing it aside.  
“Honestly, Gregory.” Mycroft scolded, glaring down at the discarded article of clothing. It did stand out like a sore thumb in this perfectly put together room.

Grabbing Mycroft by the hips he pulled the man closer, smirking slightly. “Like you think I’m going to give you the chance to fold all of your clothes neatly?” He teased, latching onto Mycrofts neck to tongue lightly at the racing pulse.

Surprisingly steady hands pushed at his shoulders, causing him to step back and look at Mycroft questioningly. The blown pupils drove him mad as he leaned in for another kiss, groaning when Holmes turned his head.

“Be a good boy and wait on the bed.” Mycroft chuckled, running his nails down the front of Gregs chest to leave little welts.

Propping himself up on the bed Greg wiggled out of his trousers, sending a quick thanks heavenward that he’d worn pants that weren’t full of holes. The closet door Mycroft had slipped through remained his current watching point, a hand reaching down to adjust himself in the navy blue pants. The little contact sent a jolt through the rock hard cock, making him see white. Also it reminded him just how long it had been since he’d been in this type of situation.

“My? You alright in there?” He called out, getting up mainly to distract his hand. Peeking into the closet his mouth went dry at the sight of a completely nude Mycroft who was actually hanging the suit up. The small snort of amusement alerted Mycroft to Gregs close proximity, and Greg grinned when he jumped slightly before turning.  
Pale freckled arms tried in vain to cover up a slightly pudgy frame, cheeks turning red. “Gregory! I told you to wait on the bed!” He snapped.

“Got lonely.” He tossed back, walking towards Mycroft with a tilt of the head. “What you tryin’ to cover up for?”

The flush spread down to Mycrofts upper chest. “I will be out in a moment, Gregory.”

Greg had a feeling he knew what the problem was. It seemed impossible for a man like Mycroft to actually be shy in regards to his body but he didn’t ask. Instead he stepped in closer, running his hands first over the fine dusting of freckles on Mycrofts shoulders before his hands went down to the mans waist.

“You are magnificent.” Greg said with a smile, kissing the still pink forehead. “Fantastic.” He kissed Mycroft on the lips once, twice, and on the third kiss Mycroft responded enthusiastically. Their bodies meshed almost perfectly together or maybe that was the romantic in his head. It was also telling him to take Mycroft to the bed and ravish him until the well to do Holmes was limp and unable to form a coherent thought.

Knowing they didn’t have a lot of time Greg hurried them to the bed, taking only a moment to admire Mycroft spread out on the edge of the bed. “Don’t even think of covering anything up.” He ordered playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to keep from just falling on top of him and ending it there.

“Got the, ah, stuff?” He asked with a crooked grin.

“Drawer right beside you.” Mycroft said, fingers twisting in the dark duvet covers as he watched Greg open the door and pull everything out. “No reason to look so surprised. I am loathe to admit it but even I find myself unable to overcome my baser instincts all the time.”

“Does it really look like I can judge?” Greg joked, pushing the pants down his thighs.

Dropping their needed items on the bed he reached down to grasp Mycrofts arousal, brushing his thumb over the swollen head as Mycroft let out a loud moan. “Gotta keep it down, remember?” Greg said in a low voice, moving his hand agonizingly slow. His eyes ate up the sight of Mycroft growing flushed for a completely different reason now, hips arching up as he placed the soles of his feet on the bed for proper leverage.

“You’re beautiful.” Greg was surprised to hear himself say it but he’d meant it. Everything he saw just intrigued him further about the younger man.

“D-don’t be foolish, Gregory. Such a t-term used for a m-man is. . is. .”

“Is what exactly? Can’t think of anything, can you? Too distracted?” Greg asked, increasing the pace of his hand as Mycroft kept trying to finish his sentence. Nails dug into his arm on the bed, gray eyes meeting his.

Pulling his hand away Greg coated two fingers with lube, reaching down and finding a rather wonderful surprise. “That’s what you were doing in the closet for so long, hm?”  
Mycroft looked away, still breathing too hard to say anything.

His fingers slid inside easily from where Mycroft had prepared himself. Bloody wonderful!

Taking Mycrofts legs he placed them over his shoulders, lining the head of his covered cock up perfectly. “Remember to keep your voice down.” Greg chuckled, fingers digging gently into the others thighs as he pushed in half-way on the first thrust.

They both struggled to keep quiet as Greg thrust in completely, hips gyrating. “You feel bloody fantastic.” He moaned before pulling out half-way.

Encouraging nails racked at his back and arse, urging him to go faster in place of a voice. “Greg, there! Oh!” Mycroft cried out before biting his lower lip, head arching back.

“Say it again.” Greg moaned, keeping up the brutal pace even as his thigh muscles ached in protest. He could feel his orgasm right there. Just so bloody close! Leaning in closer he left a bite mark right on Mycrofts shoulder, stopping his hips. “Say it again, My!” He growled.

“Greg, please, do _not_ stop! You bloody buffoon!” He whimpered, wiggling his hips. “Greg!”

God save him but hearing Mycroft say the shortened version of his name appeared to do something for him. Pulling out he thrust in hard over that spot, smirking as Mycroft let out a low groan and shivered.

As he felt himself come closer to the edge Greg reached quickly between them to grasp the others neglected length, stroking in time with his thrusts. Mycroft came first, the back of one of his hands covering his mouth as he screamed. The sudden tightness around his own cock brought Greg over the edge, his body tensing as he came hard enough to make him go light headed.

Before he could fall on top of Mycroft he pulled out and rolled over to lie on the edge of the bed next to his. . lover? Sod it. Right now wasn’t the time to be thinking so much. After discarding the used condom Greg tugged Mycroft towards the center of the bed, wrapping a protective arm around the freckled shoulders and kissing the top of his head.

“The shower is right through there.” Mycroft gestured towards the bathroom but made no hint at moving, much to Gregs pleasure.

“We have a bit of time.” Greg said, squeezing him gently as his eye lids grew suspiciously heavy.


	4. The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still tempted to keep this going. Until if/when I decide to I hope this chapter 4 makes ya'll happy. :3

The first thing he noticed was the sheets. When had he upgraded his linen set? Rolling over Greg nuzzled his face against a pillow that smelled like a brand of cologne he’d never used.

Mycroft. Mycroft smelled like this.

As Greg grew more aware of his surroundings it became embarrassingly clear that this wasn’t his flat, let along his bed. Propping up on one elbow he frowned, rubbing the last drudges of sleep from his eyes. They must have fallen asleep after. . 

Oh bloody hell. He’d actually slept with Mycroft Holmes. The slight ache in his naked thighs was another obvious reminder. Still, it hadn’t been bad. Fact of the matter was it had felt amazing. Just remembering how Mycroft felt under him was enough to cause a stirring in his groin.

Now wasn’t the time though. There was no telling how long he’d been asleep and for all he knew Mycroft wanted him gone. It was a little presumptuous to just fall asleep in the guys bed after a quick shag.

Would it be so bad to just take a quick shower? Standing there looking for any of his discarded clothes Greg didn’t notice the door opening until a loud throat clear.

“Oi!” He snapped, grabbing the covers from the bed and yanking them in front of his lower half as Mycroft sighed with a shake of his head.

“I took the liberty of having your things washed. The items should be ready by the time you’re out of the shower.” Mycroft explained. “Do you require anything else?”

Greg rubbed at the back of his neck, blushing lightly. “I’ll be out of your hair soon. Didn’t exactly plan that.”

“That much is clearly obvious.” His tone sounded stiff, formal. Not what someone expected after a rather mind blowing romp.

“Did I. . do something?” Greg asked with a frown, dropping the blanket so he could close the gap between them.

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. “Why would you think that, Gregory?”

“Because you’re acting like a prat all of a sudden. I didn’t come here to do what we did but I’m not upset about it.” Greg had grown so tired of not just saying what was on his mind. Better to have everything out on the table so his intentions were always clear. “I’m sorry if you regret it but I’m not sorry. It was pretty damn fantastic.” 

Mycroft blushed darkly, the color seeping down past the collar of his new shirt. It was just too easy for Greg to picture those freckled shoulders colored red. “Mycroft, you’re not upset about this, are you?”

“John has already gone home for the afternoon. I thank you for your suggestion about Sherlock having a play date. It was most effective.” Mycroft said quickly, eyes no longer meeting his.

“If you’re embarrassed about shagging a teacher I’ll be sure to keep it quiet. Can’t risk embarrassing Mycroft Holmes, can we?” Greg said before going to the bathroom for that shower.

 

Just as promised there was a neat stack of his clothes sitting right inside the bathroom on a plush chair. Why someone would need such a chair in the bathroom Greg didn’t know but it wasn’t his home. Wouldn’t be so bad though. Bathroom was more like a spa than just a place to wash up.

No. What was unexpected was Mycroft Holmes sitting on the edge of the bed waiting, back stiff and expression blank.

“Mate, sorry about what I said before. I guess working around kids all day rubs off on you. No hard feelings?” Greg asked, forcing the words out before he could chicken out. Mycroft was entitled to feel however he wanted about what they’d done, and if he couldn’t flat out say he hated it that was fine. Fair enough.

Mycroft looked at his hand carefully before grasping it, standing now to give a proper shake. Their hands didn’t drop away after the normal duration of a handshake, and Greg could have sworn Mycroft squeezed his hand before finally letting go first.

“It was not unpleasant, Gregory. More than satisfying.”

“Sure know how to talk a mans ego up.” Greg teased gently. “There’s no reason to say this.”

“Polite convention would say otherwise. It would not be wise to be disrespectful to my younger brothers teacher.”

“Do you actually think I’d let anything personal affect how I interact with my students? Really, Mycroft?” Greg asked firmly, arms crossing in front of him.

That deep flush was back, followed by a slight widening of gray eyes. “Of course not, Gregory. You’re a wonderful teacher from what I can observe but this can’t continue. My career, not to mention Sherlock coming into my care, and you only recently getting past your ex-wife does not sound like a sensible arrangement.”

Greg tensed, eyes narrowing as his chest went cold. “How the hell did you know about my divorce?” He growled out.

“Your ring finger still holds the faint traces of what I assume to have been a wedding band since you don’t strike me as the type to wear jewelry otherwise. No trace of pictures in your work space at school, which leads me towards divorce because if your wife had passed on you would have pictures and still have the ring on.” Mycroft said calmly, almost like he were bored. “You’re a romantic at heart, and you want a family. Two things your ex-wife didn’t much care for, which led to her roaming outside of the marriage.”

Right away he looked down at the spot where his ring had been, mentally flinching at the faint tan line. He’d worn the damn thing almost every day. It had felt like a security blanket. The only thing that could make him actually feel happy after a miserable day.

“For what it’s worth she is a fool. Will most likely come begging you to take her back within the next year or so.”

“I don’t even want to know how you figured that one out.” Greg laughed weakly, looking at the man. “Would it be alright if I said bye to Sherlock real quick?”

“Of course. I’ll have a car brought around to escort you home afterwards.”

Like before Mycroft showed him to Sherlocks room and like before they found the boy asleep but this time curled up on top of the bed with an arm flung over Redbeard.

Chuckling warmly Greg nudged Mycroft gently on the shoulder, nodding towards the bed. “Needs some covers, wouldn’t you think?” He suggested in a soft voice. Standing back he watched Mycroft walk softly towards the bed.

Again Greg was caught off guard by how young Mycroft looked as he pulled a blanket over his little brothers sleeping form. He didn’t even say anything to get the dog off the bed as he stood there watching Sherlock sleep.

Tip-toeing up beside the other Greg placed a hand on his arm to get his attention. “Will this be warm enough? Should I get another blanket?” Mycroft quickly started asking.

“He’ll be fine like that. Come on, you look like you’re about to bite through your cheek.” Greg chuckled, pulling him from the room. “You’re good with him from what I can see. Kids aren’t so hard to understand once you get used to it.”

Mycroft merely started walking, looking thoughtful as they walked. “Things haven’t been easy for Sherlock over the last year. I must say I am partly to blame.”

“Stop right there.” Greg grabbed his wrist in a firm but gentle hold, moving in front of Mycroft to block his passage. “I can’t say you’ve been perfect but look at what you have done. Your parents died and you willingly took Sherlock under your care. I know you didn’t have to do that, and you are trying. In my career I’ve had parents talk a pretty big game but never listen to a damn word I say, drives me bloody bonkers but you actually took my advice.”

Heaven save him but Mycroft Holmes was under his skin. This hard headed, stubborn pain in the arse man was already under his skin and it was beyond infuriating. “I want to see you again.”

“Gregory. .”

“Things aren’t easy for either of us but I want to see you again, Mycroft.”

“This is a completely pointless endeavor. I hope you realize that.”

Gregs reply was to merely yank Mycroft closer, wrapping his arm around the mans waist. When was the last time he’d felt so optimistic about anything? As arms went to link around his neck Greg felt himself pulled closer, Mycroft starting the kiss this time.

Again he had the thought their bodies meshed almost perfectly together. He was drunk on the thought when Mycroft pulled out of the embrace to turn and start walking, pausing a few feet ahead of Greg to glance over his shoulder.

“It’s not a school night, Gregory. Would you care to stay as the hour has grown rather late?”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.” Greg chuckled as he followed after Mycroft back towards the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's too cocky to assume this but. . ah. . here's my Tumblr: http://chicka-chicka-meowmeow.tumblr.com/
> 
> Just. . if you want to follow or anything. Or even send an Anon saying something about a fanfiction I'm totally cool with that.
> 
> Sorry again if it's too cocky to put that here.

**Author's Note:**

> Finish reading through that? Wonderful! You're fantastic!
> 
> If you feel the desire(hopefully) I would love if you left a comment.
> 
> I really really hope you enjoyed it!


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